


who cares if we're trashed

by ProbablyVoldemort



Category: The 100 (TV), The 100 Series - Kass Morgan
Genre: AU Season 3 ish, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Drunkenness, F/M, Truth or Dare, Went to Vegas and Got Married, but like the cannon ish version of that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-23
Updated: 2018-11-23
Packaged: 2019-08-28 02:16:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16714642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProbablyVoldemort/pseuds/ProbablyVoldemort
Summary: "Propose to Bellamy."Murphy said it like it was easy, like she wasn't drunk off her ass, like she wasn't hopelessly in love with him."Unless you're chicken."





	who cares if we're trashed

**Author's Note:**

> Surprise! I can write non-angst too!
> 
> I was looking for a paper I'd written last semester and found this half written instead. I mean, I found the paper, too, but this was definitely better.
> 
> Anyway, this takes place post-Mount Weather ish, but like the whole City of Light and Praimfaya and everything didn't happen and everybody's happy just chilling in Arkadia. Don't question the dynamics of the when too much. It really doesn't matter context wise.
> 
> Please enjoy some drunk fools lol

_It's a beautiful night_  
_We're looking for something dumb to do_  
_Hey baby_  
_I think I wanna marry you_

 

“Truth or dare, Clarke?”

Murphy smirked at her from across the fire, lounging back against the log he’d been perched on when he had been less drunk.

“Dare.”  Clarke sipped on her moonshine and wondered how Bellamy was faring with stealing a pair of Jaha’s underwear.

If she’d been a little more sober, maybe she would have caught the gleam in Murphy’s eye.  If she’d been a little more sober, maybe she would have thought for more than a second before answering.  If she’d been a little more sober, maybe she would have done a lot of things differently that night.

But she’d passed sober by hours ago, and was securely in that overconfident state of drunkenness, so she hadn’t even thought to consider that anything else might be going on.

“I dare you,” Murphy started, leaning closer for effect and almost toppling into the fire, “to propose to Bellamy the second he gets back, using the script I give you.”

Clarke coughed on her drink, staring at Murphy with wide eyes as their friends started to laugh.  This was a terrible idea.  There was no way this wouldn’t go horribly wrong.  Maybe if she and Bellamy were actually together.  Maybe if she wasn’t secretly hopelessly in love with him.  He’d probably laugh at her and then she’d never get her shit together and ask him out because his rejection to her proposal would always come rearing its head.

“Unless you’re chicken,” Murphy taunted, allowing Emori to help him lean back against the log and avoid a fiery death.  He looked for more smug than he had any right to be, and Clarke was tempted to wipe the smirk off his face with her fist.  Or a rock.

“I’ll do it,” Clarke blurted, because she was drunk enough that being called a chicken sounded even worse than the inevitability of Bellamy’s rejection.  Jasper held out a hand and she slapped it, the desire to prove she wasn’t a chicken giving her a boost of needed energy.  “What do I have to say?”

 

“He’s coming!” Harper hissed in her ear, too loudly to really be considered a whisper.

Clarke followed her finger across the camp, finding Bellamy jogging over.  She grabbed Jasper’s mug from his hands as he finished refilling it, and chugged the burning moonshine.  You couldn’t have too much liquid courage, right?

She could do this.  She was Clarke fucking Griffin.  She’d fought Grounders and Mountain Men and Azgedans and won.  Proposing to Bellamy would be a piece of cake.  It was going to happen, and he was going to reject her, and then they’d all laugh about it because it wasn’t real, none of this was real, so her feelings weren’t really going to hurt.

“Bellamy!” Jasper crowed, probably waking up half the camp.  “You’re finally here!  We missed you so much!”

“Yeah, sorry,” he said, accepting a mug of moonshine and dropping a pair of faded underwear onto Miller’s head.  “Jaha almost caught me, so I had to pretend to be a ghost.”

Everyone was laughing and Miller was asking whether he’d at least grabbed a clean pair, but Clarke caught Murphy’s eye from across the fire.  He started to not-so-subtly flap his arms like a chicken, and she stood up so fast she almost fell over.

“Bellamy,” she said.  Well, it was more like a yell.  His smile that he turned on her almost made her forget what she was trying to say.  She shook it off.  _Focus._   “Can I talk to you for a sec?”

He nodded and downed his moonshine before following her a little ways away from the group.  Murphy hadn’t said anything about proposing right in front of them, and she definitely didn’t stick her tongue out at him over her shoulder as they walked away, because she was an adult not a five year old, thank you very much.

“What is it?” Bellamy asked, and Clarke realized she’d been staring at him in silence for a while.  It wasn’t her fault he was so pretty.

She reached out to grab his hands, as per Murphy’s instructions, and let out a sigh before looking up at him.

Bellamy’s eyes looked particularly bright tonight, but maybe it was just all the moonshine he’d had.  They were both drunk, would both just laugh this off and probably not even remember it in the morning.

Clarke licked her lips before starting.  “Bellamy, I’ve been in love with you for a really long time,” she recited, the words Murphy had made her practice over and over coming out easier than she’d expected.  She watched his eyes widen, and hurried on.  “I love your butt and your hair and your face and your heart.”  Jasper had also suggested spleen, but he’d been outvoted.  “I can’t hold it back anymore.”

Bellamy’s face had slackened, and she didn’t know what to make of his expression, but his mouth opened as if he was going to say something, so she plowed ahead before he could.

“Emori’s ordained, or whatever Grounders call it, so we could do it right here, right now.”

“Do what, Clarke?” he whispered, interrupting her.

Clarke, for once, had no idea what he was thinking, and a tiny part of her was wanting to stop before things went too far, but the bigger, drunker part of her pointed out that she’d gone this far already, and did she really want Murphy to think she was a chicken?

“I love you, Bellamy,” she repeated, her drunken state lowering her defences enough for all the truth to seep through her voice.  “I love you, and I want to be with you forever.”  She took a deep breath and sunk to one knee.  “Will you marry me?”

Bellamy didn’t move, didn’t even seem to hear the wolf calls of their friends.  He just stood there, staring at her, his mouth dropped open in shock, for long enough that Clarke started to rise, to prepare herself to tell him about the dare.

But then he was pulling her to her feet, and then his lips were on hers, and then she was way too into their kiss to remember what she was going to tell him, and _god_ how had she gone this long without knowing what kissing Bellamy was like?

He was the one to pull back first, just far enough to press their foreheads together, and she swore she could feel his grin.

“Yes, I’ll marry you,” he whispered.  “I love you, too, Clarke.  So much.”

Clarke gasped into the kiss he pulled her back in for.  Of all the ways she’d thought this might end, this was definitely not one of them, but it was definitely the best one.

She pulled back when she needed air, matching Bellamy’s ecstatic grin with one of her own.  He let out a breathless laugh, grabbing her under her arms and spinning her around in the air, and Clarke couldn’t remember a time she’d been more happy since they’d landed on the ground.

Bellamy tugged her back to the circle, and Clarke felt a little smug at the shock on all their friends’ faces.

“We’re getting married!” he declared, turning to plant a sloppy kiss on her mouth.  “Tonight!”

Clarke stuck her tongue out at Murphy, who didn’t seem nearly as put off as he should have been that she’d won this dare by a mile, and their friends cheered, passing more moonshine around.

“Emori, were you serious about being ordained?” Clarke asked, because, if she wasn’t, they’d either have to wait until tomorrow or wake up Kane, and neither option sounded great at the moment.

Emori laughed.  “I am!”

Clarke pumped her fist in the air.  “Yes!” she cried.  “I need bridesmaids!  Who wants to be a bridesmaid?  And my mom!  My mom will kill me if she’s not here for my wedding!”

 

Plenty of possibilities were going through Abby’s mind when a drunken Octavia burst loudly into her room at a little past two in the morning.

“Abby, you need to be outside, like, six years ago!” she shouted, pulling Abby out of bed.  “Oh, hi, Kane.  You can come too if you want.”

Octavia disappeared back out into the hallway as quickly and as loudly as she’d come, and Abby shared a look with Marcus as they hurriedly got dressed.

Someone was hurt, was her first thought, followed quickly by someone was attacking.  The sky was falling.  The Mountain Men were back.  Azgeda was taking prisoners.

So many possibilities made themselves known as they rushed out of the Ark and towards where a group was gathered by a fire.

“Mom!  I’m getting married!”

That was definitely not one of them.

 

Clarke woke up feeling more hungover than she could ever remember feeling.  Her head hurt.  Her stomach hurt.  Her whole body hurt, and she kind of felt like she might puke if she moved.

Something hot and heavy was draped over her, their skin stuck to hers, and she groaned quietly as she started to brainstorm ways to sneak out before whoever she’d decided to sleep with while drunk woke up.

Before she could even attempt to extract herself, the arm tightened, tugging her closer against a chest.  Clarke forced her eyes open against the burning light, to see if she could identify her bed buddy by their arm.

And, oh, could she ever.

Her eyes snapped shut at the sudden realization that this was _Bellamy_ , that she was the very naked little spoon to Bellamy’s equally naked big spoon.  This definitely had the possibility to become a disaster.

Her fingers traced over Bellamy’s without her permission, and froze when she felt something on his hand.  She peeked out again, her eyes catching on the ring on his finger.  Her brain helpfully pointed out that it was his ring finger, that that meant it was a wedding band.

She was starting to panic again, her hand rising to her face, before she caught the glint off her own finger.  Her own ring, on her ring finger.  Her own...wedding band?

The night before started to come back in flashes.

Drinking too much.  “I dare you to propose to Bellamy.”  Being determined to prove she wasn’t chicken.  Proposing.  Kissing.  So much kissing.  More drinking.  Her mom was there.  Her mom was confused, but didn’t seem to protest.  She probably didn’t think it was real, that Emori could legally marry someone.  More moonshine.  Bridesmaids.  Walking down the aisle.  Stumbling over vows.  More kissing.  Monty had an anteater.  Miller caught the bouquet.  Murphy cried.  More drinking.  More kissing.  Bellamy carrying her in his arms.  Bellamy falling because he was too drunk to carry her in his arms.  Wolf whistles as they left for Bellamy’s cabin.

Clarke could feel her breathing quicken as the memories of just how she’d ended up naked and cuddled with Bellamy kept flying in.

Holy shit.

She was married.

Her and Bellamy had gotten married.

She was married to Bellamy.

Bellamy’s arm squeezed her tighter again, pressing a kiss to the back of her neck.

“I think we’re married,” he murmured against her skin, sending shivers down her spine.

“I think you took my name,” she told him, and he hummed in response.

They lay there for a few minutes, too hungover to really function, before Bellamy sighed.

“We should get up,” he pointed out, and the responsible part of Clarke agreed, as the sun slanting in through the window suggested they should have already been up for hours

It was, however, overruled by the much larger hungover part of her brain.

“It’s our honeymoon,” she pointed out, turning in his arms to face him.  “We should get today off.”

“Good point,” Bellamy agreed, and then he was kissing her, and it was amazing, but Clarke was too hungover for it.

“Bellamy,” she said, pulling away and tucking her face into his chest.  “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” he told her, pressing a kiss to her hair.

Clarke sighed.  “I need you to know that when I tell you this, okay?  My feelings for you are real.”

He hummed against her, and she could tell he was already starting to fall asleep.

“I love you,” she told him again, “but I only proposed to you last night because Murphy dared me to.”

There was a pause.  “He dared you to?”

“And he called me chicken.”

Bellamy chuckled sleepily.  “You’re not a chicken,” he assured her.  “But remind me to thank him.”  His arms tightened around her, tugging her impossibly closer.  “Now, go back to sleep.  Honeymoons are for sleeping.”

Clarke grinned, her eyelids already drooping shut.  “Since when?”

“Since I’m too hungover to do anything else.”  Bellamy kissed her hair again.  “I love you.”

She was already drifting off, and she was pretty sure he was, too, but she whispered the words back, sleepily in love with the way it felt to finally say them out loud.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed it!  
> Comments write my papers and kudos pass my finals!  
> Come find me on tumblr at probably-voldemort  
> Thanks for reading!


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